


Seven Days

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Masturbation, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-17
Updated: 2009-09-27
Packaged: 2018-10-26 09:10:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10783815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Over the course of seven days Ginny's relationship with Draco unexpectedly goes from platonic to something more...





	1. Benevolence

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

It was Monday evening in London, and Ginny Weasley was sitting on her rose-colored sofa, thinking of the gentleman whose head had just disappeared from her fireplace. His name was Randall Knight. As seeker for the Montrose Magpies, he was rather tall and lean. He had a short, round nose and dark pecan eyes. But it was his toned caramel arms that had attracted Ginny to him. They'd met one night when he was rushed to St. Mungo's with two broken arms as a result of a vigorous game.

"But I got the Snitch..." he mumbled hoarsely as she performed a healing charm. Right before he left, he'd grabbed her arm, looked deep into her eyes and said, "Let me take you to dinner, gorgeous." Her reply commenced the beginning of the steamiest relationship she'd ever experienced.

While sorting through her mother's box of old recipes, Randall's head had appeared in the Floo and Ginny was nothing less then ecstatic to see him. Before she could relate the thought to him, however, he'd begun explaining how things between them were great but unfortunately he'd met someone else and blah blah blah. Ginny had been too busy disconnecting the Floo to hear the rest of his well-prepared speech. She should have known better. Randall Knight was on the cover of _Witch Weekly_ with a new damsel bimonthly. The fact that they'd even lasted four weeks was a marvel.

Unfortunately, she did not have time to weep over the loss of her latest catch, not that she needed to. Breakups were a regular occurrence to Ginny. The past four years of her life had gone something like this; after the loss of her fiancé to the war, she'd had a slew of boyfriends but nothing had ever been like it was with Harry. Nothing had been love. 

Instead of continuing to sulk over the mess that was her love life, she went back to sorting through recipes and trying to decide which dish to cook for her best friend. Tomorrow was his twenty fifth birthday and she was sure he'd be spending it alone, much the way he spent every day.

Since the day Draco Malfoy had fled Hogwarts castle with Professor Snape in her fifth year, he'd gone into hiding. Lord Voldemort had been none too happy with Draco's failure to complete his assignment and had ordered Draco's head on the end of his wand. When the war ended, good triumphant, Draco reemerged in Britain, hoping to lay claim to his home, which had been abandoned after Narcissa's murder. She had refused to disclose the location of her son, even with the threat of her own life's termination. 

One breezy autumn afternoon as Ginny exited Gringotts Wizarding Bank, a gentleman was kind enough to hold the door open for her. When she looked up to thank him, she found herself staring into the cold, gray eyes of Draco Malfoy. "Well?" he said after a moment.

"Well, what?" she replied, her eyebrows knitting together.

"Are you going to move out of my way?"

"Oh." She stepped aside, her eyes never leaving his retreating form. The wizarding world hadn't seen or heard from Draco Malfoy in nearly six years and yet there he was, smug as ever, as if nothing odd were occurring at all. 

After staring at his back for several moments, Ginny approached him. "Malfoy?" she asked.

"Yes, Weasley? What do you want?"

"I...I don't know. I just...what are you doing here?"

He stared at her momentarily, his eyes conveying his annoyance. He was in a bank, shouldn't his intentions be obvious? "I'm checking on my finances," he finally said. Then he turned away from her and presented his key to the goblin. With that, the two exited the lobby, headed for Draco's undoubtedly large, overflowing vault. After several moments of contemplation, Ginny left the bank, feeling slightly anxious.

After that day, Ginny had been unfortunate enough, she thought, to run into Draco several more times. At Apparition points, in cafés where he sat in dark corners, and strangely, once at the Ministry after she'd been visiting her father. Each time she saw him she couldn't help but stare in wonderment at the man whose imprudent actions had led to the death of Albus Dumbledore. Harry had always described Draco as an unmercifully evil bastard, but looking at him now, Ginny thought he looked rather pitiful; alone and depressed. He was heading for the exit when Ginny went scurrying after him.

"What, Weasley?!" he growled, turning sharply.

Ginny jumped, taken aback by his tone. "It's just that I've been seeing you... everywhere. And you look... lonely...if you ever need to talk, I'd listen..." Ginny wasn't quite sure why she'd uttered the words, but knew she meant them sincerely. She was rather surprised when she heard his reply.

"I'll keep that in mind." With that, he turned and strode from the room, his black robes billowing, distinctively reminding Ginny of Severus Snape.

Two nights later, while Ginny was enjoying a Ploughman's salad at a table for one, she felt the presence of someone hovering above her, a body casting a shadow over her table. She knew before she even looked up, that it was Draco who stood by her table.

"Hey, I wondered when you would come over. I saw you sitting there when I came in." 

Draco stared at her, wordlessly, wondering to himself exactly why he _had_ come over. 

"Sit down," she said, and he complied. "So, what did you have for dinner?" 

"Steak."

"Aah. Well-done?"

"Medium-rare." 

"Figures," she chuckled.  


"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It's just that if I had to guess, I'd think you like your steak slightly bloody."

"And why's that?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"I dunno..." she said, turning her attention back to her salad.

"I don't know why I'm here." Draco rose from the table. 

Before she allowed herself proper time to think, Ginny reached out and grabbed his arm. "Don't go. Please sit." Their eyes locked momentarily and the intimacy of her hand on his arm and their unwavering eyes was too much for either of them. Draco sat, with all the gracefulness of a drunken man, and sighed. Ginny beckoned the waiter and ordered a Firewhisky for Draco. "I'm sorry if I offended you," she said.

Draco lowered his head to his hands and massaged his temples. He did not speak as Ginny tensely ate her salad. When his Firewhisky arrived, he grabbed the glass and drank it down in one gulp. "Another," he said simply to the waiter.

"Draco, do you want to talk?"

"I don't know what I'm doing here. I must be going mad," he said more to himself than to her.

"You're here because you need to talk... to someone. And," she added cheerily, "I'm available." Draco cracked a smile, but it disappeared just as soon as it came. As Ginny stared at his solemn face, she began to wonder just what Draco did want to talk about. Was it guilt? Shame? Loneliness?

"My mother is dead," he said to the table.

"I know-"

He looked up suddenly, shooting her death rays. "If you _know_ , then you must know _how_ , don't you?" His previously lifeless face was suddenly so full of rage and pain as he roared his words at her. Ginny shook her head as Draco leaned over the table, mere inches from her face. He spoke his horrors in harsh whispers. "They _Crucio_ 'd her for hours. Her corpse was full of broken bones and burn marks." He took a pause as the mere anticipation of his next words ripped at his heart. "Men _touched_ her." He spat the words like vile poison and Ginny knew exactly what he meant when he said _touched_. "And when she somehow got her hands on a wand, she didn't try to escape. She _Avada Kedavra'_ d herself. Did you know _that_ , Weasley? Did you know that because of _me_ , my mother is dead?" He spoke slowly, every word another agonizing blow to his existence.

"Draco...." Once again, she found that her hand was on his arm, but he did not react the same as he had moments ago.

"I gotta get out of here." He stood abruptly, disregarding her and threw a few galleons on the table. He strode from the restaurant, and Ginny didn't see him again for over a month.

When she did see him again, it was not because she ran into him at Gringotts or the Ministry; it was because she sought him out with avid determination. The truth was, Ginny had always been the type of person, as her mother said, ‘who couldn't leave a wounded bird be.' So of course, a brooding Draco Malfoy would be no different.

After she had gathered the courage, Ginny went in search of Malfoy manor. She soon found herself standing in the middle of a field, searching for any trace of a house. She had read in _Wizarding Families: Old and New_ , that Malfoy Manor was erected on magical soil centuries ago. Allegedly, one could only find Malfoy Manor if he or she sought it with good intentions. She had been standing in the general vicinity of where it was thought to be for nearly ten minutes and still hadn't found it. She didn't really understand the entire process, but she figured it would just appear when she got pretty close. 

Suddenly, she felt the same presence she had felt that day in the restaurant and knew, without a doubt, that Draco was behind her. When she turned, she came face to chest with him. 

"Although it's been quite entertaining watching you wander around out here, I thought I'd come fetch you before you set off an alarm."

"Alarm?" she said, disregarding his remark about watching her.

"Oh yeah. There're a few out here."

"Why?"

"Just a consequence of my father's paranoia, I'm afraid." 

"I see."

"Probably not. Is there a reason you're here, by the way?"

"Uh, yes, actually; your glove. I found it in the booth after you left." She extended it to him. Draco looked at the glove and walked away wordlessly.

He walked a few feet and just as he lifted his foot, a stair appeared beneath it and in his path a four-story mansion began to materialize. With every step he took, the mansion gained weight. Ginny watched, awestruck, as the grey brick piled in front of him. When Draco reached the door, it emerged with a pop and Ginny jumped with a hiccup. She thought she heard Draco snicker, but she preferred not to think about it. She followed him inside where a house elf dressed in a purple tea cozy took her coat.

"Would you like something to drink?" Draco asked, with surprising courtesy.

"Um, sure. Do you have any butterbeer?"

"Lotti, bring Miss Weasley a butterbeer." The house elf curtsied and scurried away.

"Join me in the parlor?" he asked. Ginny nodded and followed him through the corridor. On the walls, several portraits whispered and a few gasped, pointing at her as she passed.

She sat across from him in a high back chair in the parlor.

"So, the portraits know me?"

Draco laughed, light heartedly. "Weasley, you can't really expect to not be recognized with _that_ hair." It irked Ginny the way he had a habit of enunciating the most hurtful words in a particular sentence. But she reminded herself that even insensitive prats are people who need kindness.

"Ginny," she corrected.

"Pardon?"

"My name is Ginny. Call me Ginny."

"That couldn't possibly be your _given_ name."

"My full name is Ginevra." 

"Ginevra...." Draco tapped his finger to chin and looked off toward the window. "The Italian form of Guinevere... That's beautiful. Why do you have people calling you _Ginny_?" He said her name as if it tasted badly on his aristocratic tongue.

Ginny shifted uncomfortably in her seat; her name was never something she was particularly fond of and being complimented on it by Draco Malfoy (even in his own weird way) was rather odd, indeed. "Um, it's just a nickname. I've had it since childhood. I don't even know who started it."

"I see. Well, if you're not in favor of Weasley, we'll go with Ginevra then. And, I guess if I'm going to use your first name, you should use mine." He paused, drawing a deep breath. 

"And listen, I'm sorry if I was coarse with you last time we spoke. I just- well- you know."

Ginny stared at him, completely bewildered. When she had set off in search of his home, she was rather certain he would slam the door in her face. This conversion, his politeness, was entirely unbelievable. "Why are you being nice to me?" she asked. Right at that moment, the house elf called Lotti, appeared with Ginny's butterbeer and something translucent for Draco.

"Because you're being nice to _me_ ," he said, sipping his drink. "Which is... a rare occurrence these days," he added gravely. 

Ginny formed an ‘o' shape with her mouth, but did not speak. Instead she sipped her butterbeer and thought about what she could possibly say next. She came up with, "Aren't you going to take your glove back? 

"Ginevra, we both know that isn't my glove. So, why did you come here?"

"I just wanted to..." 

"Help?" he said, rolling his eyes.

"I guess..."

"Yeah, you Gryffindors and your benevolence."

"You Slytherins and your icy façade." 

The pair smiled at each other and continued to sip their beverages throughout the rest of their conversation, which was light hearted at times and serious at others. During their talk, Ginny discovered that Draco had been hiding off the coast of Morocco in a small city called Safi. She left after two drinks and dinner, with a promise of returning in a few days. It was that day that Ginny and Draco laid the foundation for a friendship which would save them both from heartrending solidarity.

 


	2. Surrender

Tuesday afternoon, Ginny stood on the doorstep of Malfoy Manor, holding a basket and wondering if she should have made something a little fancier.  She had decided on her specialty because it was, after all, her best dish, so even if he hated it, she’d know she’d done her best.  Just as she raised her fist to knock, the door swung open.

 

Ginny jumped, startled.  “Draco!  What are you doing opening your own door?  Where’s Lotti?”

 

“She was getting on my nerves.  I dismissed her for the day.  What are you doing here?”

 

“Happy Birthday!” she said, grinning fantastically.

 

“What are you doing here?” he repeated, monotone.

 

She looked at him, confused.  “It’s your birthday…”

 

“So.” he said indifferently.

 

“So?  I’m here to help you celebrate!”

 

“Ginevra, I am not in the mood.”  Draco waved his hand, dismissively.

 

“But I made dinner….” She held up her basket, and made her signature puppy dog eyes.  Sighing deeply, he stepped aside.  Ginny smiled and merrily walked into the foyer.  

 

She never quite understood Draco’s weakness for her puppy dog eyes.  Sure, it was something her brothers could not resist, but the first time she’d done it to Draco, she was sure he would laugh instantaneously, but he hadn’t.  Instead, he’d cocked his head to the side and made a face she’d never forget.  It almost looked like longing.  Then he’d relented, and she’d gotten her way.

 

“So, what did you make?” he said, walking toward the dining room.

 

“Shepherd’s Pie.  It’s my specialty.”  She smiled toothily as Draco stared at her blankly.  “You _do_ like lamb… Right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Excellent!  Where do you keep your wine?”

 

He began to laugh.  “It’s _my_ birthday, and you’re depleting _my_ wine collection.”

 

“Well, I couldn’t afford anything nice…”

 

“Aaahh.  I’ll fetch us a bottle then.”  Draco disappeared through a door in the kitchen.  When he returned he saw that Ginny had set the table.  The long mahogany table held a crystal vase of red flowers in the center.  At one end of the table, two place settings had been set.  Two silver plates with matching goblets and diamond encrusted flatware.  Ginny had never set a more elaborate table in her life.

 

“Why didn’t you use the good china?” Draco asked when he reentered the dining room.

 

Ginny gaped at him, dumbstruck; she thought she had.

 

“Well, since you made lamb, I thought Red Bordeaux would go nicely.”  Draco said.  

 

Ginny didn’t know what a Red Bordeaux was, let alone how it would go with lamb, but she figured he knew what he was talking about.  He usually did when it came to such things.

 

“So, how do you like it?” Ginny asked nervously, several minutes into their meal.

 

After taking his time to chew, swallow, and drink some whine, Draco looked up at Ginny, smiled and commented that it was the best Shepherd’s pie he’d ever had.  The truth was, Draco had never been too fond of Shepherd’s pie and Ginny’s rendition was no exception.  He could remember many a time during his childhood when he’d thrown a tantrum because he refused to touch it.  But he decided that Ginny didn’t need such information.

 

As they concluded their meal, Ginny watched Draco neatly wipe his mouth on the corner of his napkin and she almost chuckled as she tried to imagine Harry pompously patting his own chin clean with a white cloth napkin.  ‘Why am I comparing Harry to Draco?’ she wondered.  But she quickly disregarded the notion.  Just irrelevant nonsense and nothing at all to dwell upon, she thought. 

 

“Draco, now for your next surprise.”

 

“You mean to tell me you have something else in that basket?”

 

“Of course!  What kind of birthday would it be if you didn’t have cake?”

 

“What kind of cake?”

 

“Your favorite, of course!  Buttercream.”

 

Draco smiled his biggest smile, the one that only she ever saw, because he truly trusted her and because as he thought of it, she deserved to see it.

 

Ginny picked up her wand and said “ _Nox_ ”, extinguishing the candles of Draco’s large chandelier.  Then pointing it toward the kitchen, she said, “ _Accio_ cake!”  Soon, a three-tier, white-frosted cake, illuminated by twenty-five candles came floating into the room and Ginny began to sing.

 

“Happy birthday to you.  Happy birthday to you.  Happy birthday to Draaaco, happy birthday to you.  And maaaaaaaaaannny mooooorrrrre,” she screeched.  

 

Draco looked at her disdainfully.  “I haven’t done this in ages.”

 

“I’m sure you haven’t forgotten!  Come on, Draco, humor me.”

 

Draco leaned over the cake, which read in sophisticated silver and green Slytherin, “Happy twenty-fifth, Draco.”  He closed his eyes and stood silently.  After a few seconds, he opened his eyes and blew out the candles.  All of which immediately relit.

 

“Oh Merlin, not trick candles.”

 

Ginny smiled devilishly.

 

“Well come on, help me,” he said.

 

Lotti the house elf stood in the doorway of the dining room, staring at Draco and Ginny.  Draco was leaning on one side of the table and Ginny was standing tip-toe on the other.  They were both blowing fervently at the cake, whose candles refused to be extinguished.  The two were beginning to fall victim to fits of giggles as they pursued their mission, unrelenting.

 

Lotti smiled, as she reminisced of Draco as a child.  He had been curious and happy, untroubled by the harsh demands reality had in store for him.  Lotti skipped off toward the kitchen, thinking of how very much she liked Miss Weasley.  Anyone who could evoke such happiness in Draco again was someone Lotti wanted to keep around for a very long time.

 

After two bottles of wine, Draco and Ginny sat sprawled on the rug beneath the hearth in the parlor, clutching their half-empty goblets.  Ginny stared at her hand with marvel as her fingers twirled the silver goblet.

 

“I’m bored,” Ginny announced, gawking at her reflection in the goblet.

 

“Me too.  What would you like to do?”

 

“Want to play a game?”  Her eyes suddenly lit up.

 

Draco eyed Ginny suspiciously.  “What type of game?”

 

“Hmmm.”  Ginny drummed her fingers against her cheek.  “I know!  There’s this Muggle game-”

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

She pouted.  “Draco…”

 

“Ginevra…”  His tone lowered considerably.

 

“Draco…” she said, lowering her head and staring at him beneath hooded lids, a mock-stern look twinkling in her eyes.  She could only hold it for a second before she fell to laughter.

 

“You’re drunk.”

 

“Way to point out the obvious, Malfoy.  That’s all the more reason for you to indulge me.”

 

“Why is that more reason?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Right.”

 

“Okay then, I’ll explain the rules to you.”  She ignored his alarmed expression and gestures of protest.  “It’s called Truth or Dare.” 

            

Suddenly, Draco looked intrigued.  “Go on.”

 

“Well, let’s say I start.  I would ask, ‘truth or dare?’  Then if you say truth, I get to ask you any question I want and you have to answer truthfully.”

 

“What if I say dare?”

 

“Then I get to dare you to do anything and you have to do it.  We keep doing this until we’re satisfactorily entertained.”

 

“Sounds stupid.”

 

“You’re just scared.”

 

“Fine then.  Go ahead.”  

 

Ginny beamed.  “Draco, truth or dare?”

 

“Truth.”

 

“Whom do you secretly admire?”  Her face contorted into an evil drunken grimace, as she awaited his answer.

 

“You,” Draco said very calmly.  And before she could reply he continued, “Truth or dare?”

 

“Um, dare…” she said, slightly unsure of herself.

 

“I dare you to kiss me.”  Not being one to ever turn down a dare, Ginny slowly lifted herself and crawled toward Draco.  The pair stared at each other intently as her face grew closer and closer to his.  When their noses touched, Ginny bent forward and placed a delicate kiss to Draco’s lips.  Before she could pull away, he enveloped her in his arms and deepened their kiss.  Faintly, Ginny recognized that she was now snogging her best friend, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.  It wasn’t until his hand descended upon her breast that she was pushed back to reality.

 

“Draco!”  Ginny said, pulling away breathlessly.  She was only inches from his face and could still smell the hint of wine on his breath.

 

“Tell me you don’t want this, Ginevra.  Tell me that every time you’re in the same room with me, your body doesn’t sing with the anticipation of my touch.  Tell me that you’re not feeling what I’m feeling.”  He stared at her so fixedly as he spoke and Ginny couldn’t break the gaze.  “Just tell me that I’m wrong and I’ll stop.”

 

Staring into his eyes, Ginny realized she could truthfully say no such thing.  Before she could regain conscious thought, she was on top of him, kissing him senselessly.  

 

Draco’s hands threaded through Ginny’s long, fiery mane as he explored her mouth with his eager tongue.  Their hands groped at each other, each trying desperately to find skin.  The buttons of Ginny’s blouse went flying across the hard-wood floor as Draco ripped it open, each making tiny clicking noises as they scattered.  When the flesh of her bosom was revealed, he plunged his mouth toward it.  He suckled the tender skin above her brassiere, and then muttered, “ _Evanesco_ ,” making it disappear completely.  When his moist lips met with her tender nipples, Ginny lost all touch with reality.  The smell of wine and cologne and her rapidly pulsing sex consumed her and she fell from earth.  She landed beneath Draco in a world of silk linens and electric kisses.  

 

“How do you make freckles so sexy?” he asked and she giggled.  

 

He continued to vanish her clothing as he kissed every freckle that appeared in his path.  When she was completely bare, he divested himself of his own clothing and captured her lips in another breathtaking kiss.  His lips were still on top of hers when he reached between her legs and spread her lower lips.  She gasped at the feel of his cool hands on her warm sex.  When he found her tiny mound, he rubbed it slowly between his thumb and forefinger.  

 

“More…” she moaned into his mouth.

 

Soon, it was not Draco’s fingers that were rubbing at her, but the soft skin of his shaft, begging for entrance below.  As he swiped himself against her slick folds, he emitted low moans of pleasure.  Each stroke brought Draco closer and closer to her interior and Ginny thought she might explode with anticipation.  

 

She wrapped her legs around his back in urgency and Draco hissed as he swiftly entered Ginny’s warmth.  It was as if a million nerve endings that had been neglected for ages were suddenly awakened within him as he began to move with grace and fluidity.

 

Draco was vaguely aware of the absence of the shield which should have been guarding Ginny’s chastity and wondered momentarily why he had even expected it to be there.  He knew quite well that she had been engaged to Potter and he supposed this meant they would have been intimate.  After all, would he have wanted to wait to be this close to Ginny?  He supposed a selfish, foolish part of him wanted to believe he was her first and only lover but he knew better than to even wish for it.  First times were messy and painful and what he wanted to give Ginny at this moment was ecstasy.  As he looked down into her flushed face, he was certain she was rather close to achieving such a goal.

 

Draco quickened his pace as he draped her legs over his shoulders.  Holding onto her hips, he pulled her closer, burying himself in the depths her canal.  His thrusts came in quicker and quicker succession as Ginny’s moans became louder.  Draco was certain the house elves could hear, but what did it matter when the woman beneath him was writhing for more… of him.

 

“Come for me, Ginny,” she heard him whisper and she noted that for the first time since they’d become friends, he’d called her Ginny and not Ginevra.  She felt her entire body tighten with the anticipation of sweet release and then suddenly she felt the burst of bliss she had so desperately needed.  Her body quaked with orgasm and Ginny thought she might have heard Draco murmur something before she felt the rush of heat that meant he too, had climaxed. 

 

 


End file.
